


left after breaking

by Doranwen



Category: X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Post-X2, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doranwen/pseuds/Doranwen
Summary: Jean's dead, and Ororo hasn't seen Scott outside of his room in a week.





	left after breaking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).



> Beta credit goes to percygranger.

Ororo studied her face in the mirror. If someone didn't know better, they would never be able to tell that only a week ago she had lost one of her closest friends, had watched her form disappear in a wall of water. She blinked rapidly and reined her emotions in. They had repaired the damaged portions of the mansion, but rain wasn't in the forecast, and after the amount of mind-manipulation the professor had had to do to keep the school off the radar, she wasn't about to draw attention to it with freak weather.

She took one last look in the mirror, gathering her long hair behind her and trying to picture what it would look like short. Jean had teased her sometimes after getting her own cut short, suggesting that they get matching haircuts. Ororo had always refused; her long straight white hair was her one feature that said "mutant", and while it wasn't as helpful for blending in, she was proud of having a "marker", proud of being different. She frowned at the image, and released her hair, letting it fall down her back again. No, this was who she was; Jean would've understood.

She walked out of her attic room and down to the main adults' wing, which was mostly empty at the time. Scott and Jean were the only ones who had permanent residence, and other than the occasional visit from Logan or one of the handful of graduates the school had had, there was rarely activity. Now that it was only Scott… She sighed and walked past Scott's room, stopping abruptly when she heard the sink running. Scott wasn't on breakfast duty; what was he doing up at this hour of the morning?

Ororo checked her watch: it was almost six a.m., as she thought. No one else got up with the sun, and Scott, while more of a morning person than otherwise, wasn't into rising at the crack of dawn. She pressed her lips together, then took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

The face that met her upon opening looked mostly normal, except for the excessive stubble growing. Scott had never been one to wear a beard, but it was clear that shaving had been low on his priority list the past week. He stared at her, waiting.

"I heard the water," she began. "I just wanted to see…" she trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

"No, I didn't sleep. Yes, I'm alive," he said flatly. "Anything else?"

Ororo sighed. "Since you're awake, do you want to help me round up my breakfast assistants?" All the teens hated breakfast duty; waking them up was a chore in itself.

His mouth twitched with the slightest hint of humor. "Wouldn't dream of taking that pleasure away from you."

"See you at breakfast, then?" She hoped. Scott had been a sporadic presence at meals, sometimes eating with them, but more often than not skipping them or stopping by only long enough to take some food with him back to the room.

He shrugged and closed the door, leaving her in the hall. She sighed. Nothing she tried seemed to reach him. It hurt to watch him wallow in his grief, unable to connect or share it. She was out of time now - if breakfast was to happen, she had to round up the unlucky students. She retrieved some washcloths from the linen closet and found a basin to fill with ice water, just in case. Most woke up quickly these days at the slightest sound, a sad legacy of the trauma they had been through. A couple of the sophomore boys, however, were very good at pretending to sleep through the duty summons once they realized what they were being woken up for. A brief application to the neck of each of those ones should take care of getting them up. She'd have to try again with Scott later.

* * *

"Miss Munroe?" came Rogue's voice hesitantly from the doorway, and her head poked in a little through the doorway.

Ororo paused in the middle of writing a sentence on the board for the youngest students' history class. "What is it, Rogue?"

"It's Mr. Summers. He's not in the classroom."

Ororo frowned. It wasn't like Scott to miss a class. "Did you check the staff room? Maybe he was making copies of something?"

Rogue shook her head. "The staff room's empty. I was going to ask the Professor, but your room was on the way."

Ororo smiled sympathetically at the teen. "I'm sorry, Rogue, I think you'll have to ask him." She'd have said she had no idea where he was, but that wasn't strictly true. A suspicion had crept into her mind, and now that it was there, she found it made altogether too much sense. And if she was right, that was the final straw.

* * *

Ororo hugged the last student as they went out of the classroom, already chatting about the games they were going to play as soon as they had dropped off their books in their room. She gathered up her materials and cleaned the board before walking into the hallway. The route to Charles' office was clear, and she knocked on the door as a quick alert in case he was lost in thought.

"What is it, Ororo?" he asked as soon as he saw her face.

She lost no time in getting to the point. "Where was Scott this morning?"

Charles hesitated, as if to choose the right words. "He was not feeling up to teaching. I gave him some time off and asked Hank to cover his classes for now."

"In other words, he's holed up in his room and doesn't want to come out."

"Grief takes different forms in different people."

Ororo nodded and took her leave of him. As she graded papers that afternoon, she thought over the Professor's words. She had been aware of that maxim. She was also realizing that sometimes people got stuck in the grieving process and needed to be shaken out of the rut they'd gotten into. And none of them had the luxury of just holing up somewhere for an indefinite amount of time. They had children who depended on them for security and constancy in a world that provided neither. When Scott's grief started interfering with his responsibilities, well, she would have to interfere with his life. She just had to think of the right time—and place.

* * *

Ororo approached the doors to the adult wing and waited as Hank exited. "Hey, Hank," she greeted.

"Good evening yourself," he said with a smile. "I'm off to check on the students for the evening."

"Ah, good luck." Another task that Scott usually handled. "Do you know if Scott's still in his room?" she asked him.

"I believe he is," said Hank. He peered at her face. "You're planning on having a talk with him too?"

"You already did?"

Hank shook his head. "I believe the Professor tried it earlier. I surmised I would not have any more luck than he did; it's been quite a few years since Scott and I had time to hang out."

"I see," she said. Her mouth was a thin line; Scott was reaching the end of her patience. They did not have enough adults to take care of these children to allow him to escape from life while he got his head on straight. He would have to grieve like the rest of them—in between everything else they had to do.

"You might have a better chance, though. He did always listen to you when we were teens," Hank said. "Good luck." He reached an arm around her shoulders and squeezed briefly.

"Thanks, I think I'll need it." She left Hank to do the evening check-in and entered the adult wing. She knocked firmly on Scott's door but didn't wait for him to open it, turning the handle and swinging it wide open. Scott sat on the edge of his bed, unmoving; he was still in the same sweatpants and top she'd seen him wearing the night before at supper. Had he even eaten all day? Or left the room for anything? "Put some shoes on," she ordered. "We're going for a walk."

"I don't want to go on a walk," he mumbled.

"Too bad, you don't have a choice," she fired back.

Something in her tone of voice must have alerted him to her seriousness, because he lifted his head and stared at her for a moment, then slowly got up to find a pair of sneakers. She turned and led him out the door and down the hallways till they slipped out a side door into one of the gardens. Her steady pace slowed to an amble as they navigated out of the gardens and onto the path that led around the lake, lit by the full moon.

Ororo glanced over at Scott. He seemed lost in thought, locked away in his private grief. She didn't know if she could bring him out of it, but she had to try. Their path led them to the dock, and she grabbed his wrist briefly with a quick tug to pull him along with her as she veered onto it. The water was peaceful, and the moon's reflection bright and still. She settled onto the edge of the dock, sitting cross-legged to avoid getting her shoes wet. "Remember when we were teens, and we used to sneak out to have a party on the dock at the end of the school year?" she asked after a minute.

There was a long silence at first, and she was relieved to finally hear Scott speak. "I remember Alison always smuggled the beer. But then she drank more of it than anyone else. Jean—" his voice faltered before continuing, "—Jean was always monitoring how much we all had, so we didn't get too drunk and drown in the lake or something."

One chink in the armor. She tried for another, even if it caused her to work hard to keep her power under control. "I keep wishing," she said softly, "that I had tried to lift the jet with the wind, when we were trying to fix the electrical system. Maybe she wouldn't have had to…" her voice trailed off.

"Forget it; you'd have torn it apart in the attempt," Scott said, shaking his head. "You've never tried to lift anything that large, and the winds you'd have to harness to do it… No, if I hadn't fought her with my blasts, the dam wouldn't have given way in the first place."

"You couldn't control that; Stryker made sure of it," Ororo pointed out.

He was silent a few moments before speaking again. "I just—" he began, "I just don't understand why she did it that way, why she blocked everyone else. She could have fixed the jet from inside, or Kurt could've grabbed her just before the waters collapsed… Why did she make it so she died?" His voice was muffled as he covered his face with his hands. "Why?" A couple tears escaped his hands.

Scott's last word came out with such emotion that Ororo found herself placing a hand on his shoulder almost before she was aware of moving. She found herself holding Scott as he cried, struggling not to cry herself. The wind picked up slightly and a few raindrops descended on them before she was able to calm herself enough to disperse the gathered clouds. His last few sobs dwindled to a sniffle, and he pulled back to look out over the lake again, carefully rubbing his eyes under the goggles.

They sat in their respective silences for a long time, gazing out over the water as it rippled in the vanishing breeze. The tranquility was interrupted by Scott's stomach rumbling. "I… don't think I ate anything today," he said sheepishly.

"Are you feeling hungry?" Ororo asked him.

He looked out for a moment, then glanced at her with a little smile. "Actually, I think I am."

She grinned as she stood and reached a hand down. "Come on, then, we can't have our fearless leader wasting away."

He got to his feet and paused, giving her a serious look. "I'm not, you know."

"We know," she said softly, matching his look. "But 'courageous' doesn't have the same ring to it."

He snorted a little at that, but followed her inside to the kitchen. She had no illusions about him being "over" Jean's death, but he would go on—they all would.

* * *

"You're braver than I thought," Ororo teased Hank as he supervised loading a van full of teens for a mall trip.

"Oh, they've promised to be on their best behavior; I have some excellent opera to play on the way back otherwise—and there will be no escaping into electronic devices to avoid it."

"Evil, evil," she tsked with a grin. "Have fun; I've got to figure out what we still need to purchase for the camping trip next month." She held up the clipboard with the list for illustration. "I have a feeling that the students who helped unpack the last time put things wherever they could find space, instead of where they belonged."

"Good luck with the treasure hunt," he wished her as he climbed into the driver's seat.

The van headed down the driveway as Ororo turned back to the mansion. No, on second thought, she'd probably find some of the camping gear in the stable. She switched to her work boots and headed down the path to the stable.

Inside, the sound of someone currying one of the horses met her ears. She set her clipboard down on a shelf and went to investigate. "Oh, it's you," she said upon catching sight of Scott. "I wondered which student had managed to escape the watchful eye and mind of the professor."

Scott grinned a little as he put the brush away. His face became sober as he patted the horse's neck. "No, I took Missy out earlier. I just had to get away from everything," he said quietly.

Ororo stepped up to the mare and let her take a good sniff of her hand before she petted her. "I know the feeling," she murmured. "Are you sleeping any better?"

He glanced at her warily.

"I ask because I remember it took me months after my parents died before I stopped waking up screaming in the middle of the night," she said, a reminder that she, too, had had loved ones taken from her suddenly and violently.

He nodded, only a little shamefaced. "A little. I can actually get to sleep now, without—" his voice trailed off and he swallowed hard, looking away. He struggled to breathe normally, and soon a few tears trickled underneath the visor he wore when riding.

Ororo stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. After a moment, she felt his arms encircle her, his breath warming her skin. The longer the hug went on, the more she began to notice other things—the musculature of his back, his solid chest, the scent that was unmistakably male but also uniquely his own… Feelings she thought had been long buried began to make themselves known—now, of all times. She had had such a crush on Scott for a while when they were teenagers. But he had only eyes for Jean, and when his feelings were reciprocated, she had forced herself to let him go. It had taken a while to move on, but she had, and for years had worked with him without it being a problem. Apparently she wasn't as over it as she had thought.

Scott pulled back a little, enough to look at her, and Ororo found herself hardly breathing as he lowered his lips to hers. After a couple kisses, though, he pulled away with, "No, I can't."

What was she thinking? How could she betray her friend like that? Guilt threatened to overwhelm her. _I'm sorry, Jean_ , she thought. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" she said, turning to leave in a hurry, but found her wrist caught in Scott's firm grip.

"Wait," he commanded, and she obeyed, turning back to face him reluctantly. "I may be clueless about relationships sometimes—and don't tell me Jean never talked to you about me—" he said, and Ororo had to blush a little, remembering some of Jean's rants when she felt Scott had been particularly obtuse about something. He continued, "—but even I know that if you walk away right now, we'll spend days avoiding each other awkwardly, and make this a bigger deal than it needs to be."

"Yeah," she admitted.

"I'm not ready for anything right now," he said. "It's not about you, you know?"

She nodded; it was far too soon.

"Maybe—" he said, taking a deep breath, "—if…" Scott's smile was grief-tinged, and Ororo smiled back as he slid his hand down from her wrist to squeeze her hand. At that moment, Missy bumped his shoulder with her nose, trying to angle her mouth at his pocket. He grinned at the horse, giving her nose another scratch. "Sorry, Missy, no more treats." He looked back into Ororo's eyes. "I think I'll go relieve the professor for a while. See you at lunch."

It was a promise, and she looked forward to it.


End file.
